


Worth A Thousand Words

by Annorahrose



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, F/M, Gift Giving, Molly being awkwardly adorable, Post-Season/Series 04, Sherlock is confusing, Sherlolly - I promise, Spoilers for TFP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28115715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annorahrose/pseuds/Annorahrose
Summary: Gift giving can be a tricky business.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 30
Kudos: 96





	Worth A Thousand Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrsMCrieff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMCrieff/gifts).



> This one is my first attempt at a Christmas fic, and the bar is set pretty damn high by the other Christmas works I’ve read. Prompted by and gifted to the always delightful MrsMCrieff, without whom there’s simply no way I’d still be writing.
> 
> No beta this time around, all mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Disclaimer - Not my circus, though God I wish it was. The only profits I make will be in the form of kudos and reviews from this amazing community. You are all so incredibly wonderful! ❤️😊

Sherlock had not stopped whining since he and Mrs. Hudson left the flat. He was sorely regretting giving an answer when she had asked him if he had found gifts for John, Rosie, or Molly yet. Distracted by an experiment he was trying to complete, he let slip that he had yet to find anything for his Goddaughter.

He really should have known better.

"This is utterly ridiculous. Setting aside the absurd social convention that forces one to prove affection by giving gifts at pre-determined times, Rosie is far too young to realize whether she's been given a gift or not. I have little enough patience for the custom when the recipient is cognizant of the gesture."

"Honestly, Sherlock, why does this always have to be a fight with you? Rosie is your Goddaughter, you should want to do something for her. At the very least do it for John."

"I'm already giving John a gift, why isn't that sufficient?"

"In showing affection and consideration for Rosie, you show respect to your role as a Godparent." Sherlock drew a breath to continue his objections, but she raised a hand for silence, firmly telling him "No, no more arguing. You will find that child a gift and do it without complaining or so help me you will never see another pot of tea from me. I mean it, not so much as a tea bag. Do we understand each other?" Sherlock huffed out an impatient breath, his expression mutinous.

"Alright, let's just get this over with. And no stuffed bears or monkeys or whatever inane creatures children cling to."

Martha Hudson smiled quietly to herself, knowing that Sherlock's put-upon demeanor was a front to disguise his affection for the child. Though his patience with children in general was always very short, Rosie was a different matter altogether. Indeed, he generally had more patience for her than for anyone else, child or adult. Mrs. Hudson suspected this had a great deal to do with how much the little girl resembled her mother.

"Trust me, Sherlock, there is nothing like the sight of a child on Christmas. It'll melt even your grinchy heart." Smirking, Mrs. Hudson led Sherlock into another shop, determined, it would seem, to drive him mad by the end of the day.

He only escaped her cheerful nagging when he received a text from Lestrade. Apologizing with a brief kiss to her cheek, Sherlock put her in a cab home, paid the fare in advance, and started towards NSY, which was only a few blocks away. The case seemed to be only a four, but if it got him out of this irritating shopping trip, he really didn’t care. He would find a suitable gift for Rosie another time.

  
_____

One of Molly's favorite places to shop was a little place called Odds and Ends located just around the corner from St. Barts. They always had little items that were perfect for gift-giving, whether for a close friend, family member, casual acquaintance, or incredibly confusing Consulting Detective. She had never failed to find the perfect trinket there, so when she blew inside on a particularly cold day two weeks before Christmas, she was certain she'd find gifts for those still left on her list.

As she caught her breath and greeted the young woman at the register, she began to scan the different displays that had been set up for the Christmas season. Odds and Ends had a mixture of new items and antique selections, with everything from brightly colored scarves and matching hats to books from the 1700’s.

She spent a good fifteen minutes just browsing each section, fawning over beautiful vases and costume bracelets. Though she never bought costume jewelry for herself these days, she still loved to admire the pieces. There were always so many little items she liked in the shop that it was a constant challenge not to come out with a hundred or so pounds worth of items for herself. Today, however, she held tight control over her purchases. She found a beautiful brooch for Mrs. Hudson, an antique stethoscope for John, and a fine gold lighter for Greg. A gift for Sherlock had evaded her, much to her mounting frustration. She was on the point of leaving with her treasures when she spotted something glinting in the front window. She gasped and giggled at her turn of luck, taking the item up to the counter to make a second purchase.

"Perfect." She thought, as she mentally crossed Sherlock off her list.

  
_____

The sitting room at Baker Street was buzzing with warm lights, good food (thanks to Mrs. Hudson and John), good drinks (thanks to Lestrade, who was an exceptional bartender), and cheerful conversation. Sherlock had played a few Christmas carols for them all as they had arrived, but was then drawn into a conversation with Lestrade and John about a recent case and the (not entirely legal) method Sherlock had used to secure evidence. Finally, tired of all the talk of work, Molly scooped up Rosie, put on the stereo, and started dancing with the baby, pulling John in to join them as well.

Even though he found the trappings of Christmas to be ridiculous, Sherlock still found himself enjoying the gathering of the small group of friends as they exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve. Despite his and Mycroft’s constant assertions that sentiment and, indeed, any reliance on other people was a danger to be avoided at all costs, the events of the past several months had impressed upon him the opposite. He had seen what a lack of humanity in Eurus’ life had done. He would not be like his sister.

The food was almost half gone when Mrs. Hudson declared that it was time to exchange gifts. The group at large happily agreed, in fact Molly looked as excited as a child about to see Father Christmas. Sherlock watched her from the corner of his eye. She was the only source of potential discomfort for him in tonight’s gathering, and he found himself quite nervous about the direction the night may take.

Molly’s enthusiasm led her to take a place next to the tree and start handing out gifts, admonishing the recipients that they needed to wait to open them. “One at a time, so we can all see.” was her direction, and no one found they wanted to argue.

It wasn’t long before paper, ribbons, and bows were scattered throughout the room. Gifts lay in boxes by their recipients feet, apart from Rosie’s, which she alternately tried to chew or pound on the floor, shrieking with giggles at her bounty. Molly’s method of opening gifts one person at a time meant that there were “oooh’s and aaaah’s” over each gift.

Finding only a few gifts left to be opened, Molly called for Sherlock’s attention. “You haven’t opened one in a while. Here, this is from me.”

Sherlock winced as she handed him the small gift bag. "I'm afraid I don't have a gift for you, Molly. I wasn't able to find one I thought appropriate." At this, John and Mr. Hudson looked at him curiously. They had each asked Sherlock if he'd completed all his shopping, and he had assured them both he had. Had he forgotten Molly? Even with his reluctance to engage in gift-giving, it seemed odd to have left her out, as he knew she would be a part of their Christmas celebrations.

"Oh, that's alright, just knowing you thought of me is more than enough." Molly replied cheerfully. Sherlock looked at her carefully for any sign of disappointment, but she seemed to be sincere in her statement. "Go on, open it!" she encouraged, smiling widely. Sherlock pulled the tissue paper from the bag and found a small picture frame with miniature pirate hats, treasure chests, and maps engraved across the metalwork. It held a photo of two small boys dressed in homemade pirate gear - one with floppy brown curls and the other with short, straight, ginger hair. They held rough wooden sticks shaped vaguely like swords aloft and crossed in the space between them. Both had huge smiles and sparkling eyes.

It was Sherlock and Victor Trevor.

The room had fallen quiet. Mrs. Hudson put a trembling hand to her mouth, muttering a breathless "Oh my." John's jaw gaped as he moved closer to Sherlock in order to see the photo more clearly. Lestrade gasped "Bloody hell, is that...?" Sherlock simply stared at the photo and the frame. Molly took in the reactions around her and started to look very nervous. 

"I'm sorry, is it too personal? I shouldn't have assumed... I thought it might be nice to have a happy reminder of that time. I didn't mean to upset you. I can get you something else... I really can't seem to get the hang of this Christmas thing, can I?" Molly laughed nervously and blushed, leaning forward to take the frame from Sherlock. He jerked it away quickly, not meaning to be rude, but not wanting to have the frame taken from him.

"No, it's... it's lovely. A very thoughtful gift, thank you, Molly." Sherlock kept his gaze on the photo, his voice sounding distant and distracted.

"Where on earth did you get that photo?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"Um, well..." Molly hesitated, looking as if she still was not convinced that the gift had been appropriate after all. "Mycroft came into the morgue to follow up on that murder of the daughter of one of the Prime Minister's top aids, you remember the case. I happened to have gotten the frame that day, and I showed it to him, asking if he thought you would like it. He told me he had the perfect photo and had it couriered to me. I really didn't mean to upset you, Sherlock, I'm so sorry if I overstepped."

"Please don't apologize. I'm not upset, it caught me off guard, that's all." He finally tore his eyes from the gift and looked at Molly with a small but very genuine smile. "Thank you, Molly. This is really quite... special." Molly's cheeks colored again and she gave him a shy smile.

"Well, let's not all just sit here staring, who wants to open the next gift?" Mrs. Hudson said, with forced cheer in her voice. Rosie remained the only occupant of the room who hadn't been affected by the last exchange. "Rosie, how about you? John, her last gift from me is just over there, in the corner". John retrieved the gift and helped Rosie open it, exclaiming over a downy-soft stuffed giraffe and chunky board book. John smiled along with Rosie, who reached out to grasp the giraffe and promptly stuffed it in her mouth. 

"Ta, Mrs. Hudson, it's marvelous!" John said, as the others laughed.

"Well, it's never too early to encourage the little ones to read, is it? I'm sure Sherlock has something even more educational, don't you, dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked, with a fond smile.

"Actually, no. This seems to be a year for sentiment." Sherlock said cryptically, reaching over to take a small box from one of the tree branches. "John, you might want to open it for her."

John nodded, bewildered. He was honestly a bit surprised that Sherlock had gotten anything for Rosie on his own. He had expected to see the addition of Sherlock's name to Mrs. Hudson's or Molly's gifts. Rosie set aside the giraffe for a moment, eyeing the shiny red paper and tiny gold bow. She giggled and reached for the box, but John moved it out of her reach.

"Hold on, Rosebud, let Daddy unwrap it first." Rosie sent up an impatient grunt, telling her father in no uncertain terms that this was not an acceptable arrangement. Sherlock reached over to pull her into his own lap, distracting her with her new, slightly damp giraffe while John opened the box. 

Inside lay a small square of cotton which held a small oval locket. It was made of white gold with a shiny, silvery grey stone set in the middle. John opened the locket carefully and tears immediately gathered in his eyes. The photo showed a beautiful little girl, no older than four or five years. She had golden hair that hung in soft waves to her shoulders, and her smile and twinkling eyes were unmistakable.

"Sherlock..." he began, but was unable to say anything further for a moment. Finally, he turned the locket towards Rosie, who had resumed gnawing on her new stuffed giraffe. "Look, Rosebud. It's your mummy." A collective gasp rose from the room, and both Molly and Lestrade dabbed at misted eyes.

Sherlock smiled just a bit and looked at Rosie in his lap. "Mycroft got the picture for me, though I’ve no idea where or how. It seems he's been a regular Father Christmas this year. The stone on the front is hematite. Those who believe in that sort of thing call it a memory stone. I thought it fitting, despite the absurdity of such a belief." Rosie reached for the locket with her chubby little fingers, and John let her touch it for just a few moments. She giggled and tried to pull the locket into her mouth. John laughed and pulled it away as Sherlock distracted her with her new book.

"Well, while Sherlock has her preoccupied, go ahead and open mine for her. I'm afraid it's nothing fun, but I think she'll appreciate it in time." Molly said, passing to him her gift to Rosie.

John smiled at Molly, his eyes still a little wet, and reached for the gift. There was a larger, flat package as well as a thicker rectangular shaped box. John opened the larger package first. It held a framed certificate of authenticity and some loose papers for a star that Molly had registered in Rosie’s name. John gave a shout of surprise and happiness, looking over to Molly with an expression of gratitude.

"Molly, this is wonderful, thank you so much!" 

"Don't forget the other package, John." Sherlock said, pulling the framed certificate towards him and showing it to Rosie. "Look, Rosamund, Molly got you your very own star!" He looked up at Molly and gave her a little nod and a smile "You seem to be on a roll this evening." Molly blushed, looking down for a moment before John opened the second box. It was a small antique music box that played "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star". The mahogany wood was engraved with tiny stars and a crescent moon that reflected a luminous white. 

"Molly, these are beautiful. Thank you so much, sweetheart." As John reached over to her and hugged her tightly, he thought he saw a flash of discontent on Sherlock's face. As he pulled away, however, Sherlock's expression had reverted back to normal, and John thought he must have imagined it.

  
____

As the party-goers prepared to leave, Sherlock pulled Molly to the side and whispered "Would you stay for just a moment?"

"Yeah, sure, of course." Molly replied. She was still slightly worried that her gift had upset him, and wondered briefly if he wanted to give it back to her in private, so as not to embarrass her. Sherlock accompanied the others to the front door as they each gathered their coats and gifts and set out into the chilly night air. When he returned, his expression was unreadable as he gestured for her to join him by the Christmas tree. He took down a small, square box from higher up in the branches, just as he had done with Rosie’s present.

"I'm afraid I wasn't totally honest about your gift. I do have something for you, but I didn't have the... courage, I suppose, to give it to you in company." He handed her the box, which was wrapped in shiny green paper with a silver bow. The top and bottom had been wrapped separately, so it wasn't necessary to tear the paper, only to remove the top.

Molly’s eyes went wide as she opened it. It was another locket, similar to the one he had gifted to Rosie. It was heart shaped, white gold, and had a large blue sapphire set into the top with delicate scrollwork engraved all around the stone. Molly covered her mouth with her hand. "Sherlock..." she started, but found that she was lost for words.

"Open it." He said, giving her a small smirk. She gently pried the locket open and gasped. The pictures were of a little boy and girl, shining brown eyes and cat-like blue green eyes; dark, straight locks and even darker wild curls. Sherlock had to have been three in his photo, whereas Molly recognized herself as four. She was amazed that she had not started tearing up, but she was just too stunned.

"Your mum sent the picture of you, and Mycroft secured the picture of me.” He paused, seeming almost to steel himself. “As I said before, I don't hold with the nonsense of gems or crystals holding some sort of power, but I do acknowledge the role they play in symbolism." He paused again, seeming to search for the words, or perhaps the courage, to continue. As his thoughts continued to buzz he reached for the box and lifted the chain around Molly's neck, moving behind her and sweeping her hair over to one side so he could secure the clasp.

"Sapphires are meant to represent a pledge of... of new love. I thought it appropriate." he almost whispered.

Molly nearly stopped breathing. She turned very slowly, as if worried she might spook him and cause him to run away. "Appropriate?" she asked, her voice breathless and fragile. He nodded, not meeting her eyes. He looked painfully shy - a very odd look for him.

"I didn't... I didn't know how exactly to tell you. I know we talked after Sherrinford... but there was so much going on, so many things I had to handle - Eurus, my parents, Mycroft, Victor, I didn't..." He trailed off, and Molly gently, tentatively placed her fingertips along his jawline. He didn't seem distraught at all, just unsure. He leaned his forehead against hers, still casting his eyes down at the floor. "I wanted to tell you, Molly, but I never found the right time, or the right words. I wanted to give you the kind of statement you deserve to have. I thought tonight in front of all our friends would be perfect, but..."

"Shhhh, Sherlock..."

Finally, finally, Sherlock raised his eyes to hers. Her smile was small, but joyous and beautiful. His face remained somber as he moved to kiss her, lightly. Then again. Then again. Then not so lightly. Her fingers settled on his cheeks, as his arms wrapped around her waist. They broke the kiss, looking at each other with small, giddy smiles.

"Thank you for the picture and the frame. I’m not sure if you could have given me a more meaningful gift.” He leaned in, resting his cheek against hers.

“Happy Christmas, Molly Hooper."

"Happy Christmas, Sherlock Holmes."


End file.
